He eventually rolled off of me, and sighed satisfied. "You're a good fuck." He leaned in towards me, and kissed me hard. His hand rested on my belly, but he eased it down, and started playing with me. I wasn't hard, and I wasn't going to get hard. The man was fat and ugly, and I was beyond disgusted. He let go of me after a minute, and made his hand go under my balls, towards my backdoor.
"No, please. I've given you everything you wanted, but I think I'm done." I shooed his hand away, but he wasn't going to give in.
"I'm not done with you yet." I relaxed my hands, and tried to forget where his hand was headed. I winced as he went where he wanted, and winced as he removed his hand. "I'm still not done." He lowered his face, and attempted at giving me head. This guy doesn't get it. I wasn't turned on at all, and I wasn't gay. And obviously, gay sex disturbs me. He sucked on me, and licked me, even deep throated me, but I wasn't turned on. "Well." He sat up; obviously embarrassed he couldn't please me, and rubbed his hand through his black hair.
"I'd better be going up to see that my son is safe." I waited for the man's okay, and I stood up, feeling the sharp pains surge through me. I didn't bother to grab the clothes off of the floor, and made my way upstairs. I passed that door on my way, and got that same chill as I had before. Curiosity filled my mind, but there was no way I was going to sneak my way by him to give in to my interest. I walked quietly into the room shared with Justin, and found him sound asleep, cuddled with an old shirt of his mothers from our bag. I went into the bathroom to grab another shower, to try to wash off the man's sweat, his touch, and his presence. I opened up my bag, just to nose through it like I always did as soon as Justin rested his head at night. I closed the bathroom door slightly, enough so I could have privacy, but enough so I could still see the bed. First I pulled out a family album, filled with pictures of Justin, his mother and I before she was murdered. Then I pulled out an old shirt of hers that still had her scent. I held it up to my face, letting the cool fabric help me relax. I felt my eyes tear up, and I let them fall. I then pulled out a necklace she always used to wear. It was a silver locket, with a picture of her and I on our first date. I sobbed quietly, watching the little boy in the bed, sleeping soundly. He looked just like her. He had her eyes, and smile, hair, nose, jaw line. Everything. He was her spitting image. I held the locket to my chest, and kissed it. I fingered the chain, and eventually put all the memories back where they belonged. I got into the shower, trying to scrub away my life. Tear the memories off as if they were just like a layer of skin. If only if it was that easy. I finished, dried myself off, and crawled into bed with my boy. I rested my head on my hand, leaning on my elbow. I ran my hand through Justin's hair, and he rolled over, resting his head on my chest. I kissed his forehead, and pulled him close.
"Daddy?"
I looked into his eyes, and his were teary.
"When's Mommy coming home?" I sighed, and felt myself tear up again.
"I don't know Sweetie." I hugged him tight, and sobbed into his little shoulder, as he sobbed into mine. I stroked his hair, and wiped his tears. "You should go to sleep baby."
"I miss Mommy!"
"I do too babe. But she'd want you to sleep." I kissed him gently, and he cuddled into me more, and closed his eyes. I rubbed his back, and hummed our favorite song. His mother's and mine. I glanced around the room, and saw a photo frame on the nightstand. It was a picture of a man around my age. He wasn't smiling; he looked depressed. He had brown eyes, and dark wavy hair.